


The Second

by llama_at_221b (orphan_account)



Series: Johnlock Ficlets 2017-2018 [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gay Smut, Hehehe, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I WROTE SMUT, I'm Sorry, M/M, My First Smut, OK WOW, SMUTTY SMUT, Smut, Teenlock, What Have I Done, broom closet, haha - Freeform, i like the closet, i mean porn, it's... it's a goddamn pun, nehehe, there's a closet, things happen in the closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 16:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10442145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/llama_at_221b
Summary: Sherlock likes John, John likes Sherlock.Notes are passed. Broom closets are dirtied.DEDICATED TO: DARINGD





	

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS DEDICATED TO DARINGD, FOR BEING THE FIRST PERSON TO COMMENT AND A SUPER COOL PERSON.
> 
> I apologize for my lateness. Maybe the smut will make up for it.

John Watson went to Baker High School. He had average grades, average friends, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a major huge crush on Sherlock Holmes, school genius. How could he not? The teen was perfect. Curly brown hair, incredible intellect, delicate pale skin, cheekbones, and indescribable eyes...

Anyways. Best not to get lost in John’s daydreams.

Sherlock Holmes went to Baker High School. He had perfect grades, no friends, dark hair, strange eyes, and a major huge crush on John Watson, captain of the rugby team. How could he not? The teen was perfect. Golden hair, deep blue eyes, tan skin, muscles, and the most indescribable feeling rose in his chest whenever John smiled…

Anyways. Best not to get lost in any daydreams, for that matter.

                                ***************************************************  
Thursdays were always bad days. It was almost the weekend, but not quite, and the math teacher always gave tests. Always.

John was exceedingly bad at math tests. He usually managed to get a passing mark, but today. Today was not good. 

He broke another pencil accidentally, swearing quietly. He checked his binder for another one, but there was nothing. He bit his lip, terrified of what the teacher would say when she noticed he hadn’t finished half the test, when a mechanical pencil landed on his desk, almost silently. He glanced around to see who had thrown it, surprised, and spotted Sherlock Holmes - SHERLOCK HOLMES! - turning back to his paper, blush dusting his cheeks.

John’s jaw dropped slightly, feeling his cheeks heat, and - goddamnit - his cock twinge. He bit his lip harder and whipped back to the test sheet, when he noticed it.

The tiny slip of graph paper tucked in the clip of the mechanical pencil’s clicker.

Confused, the blonde teen pulled it out gently and was astonished to find all the answers written in small, untidy script that did something funny to his stomach. At the bottom, even more jaw-dropping, was a phone number.

John sure hoped it was Sherlock’s.

Rushing, John scribbled the answers gratefully on the sheet - using the pencil of course - and was just in time for the bell. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Sherlock trying to leave quickly. The rugby player grabbed his bag, deposited his test at the front, and snatched the sleeve of Sherlock’s white button-down, dragging him to the closest broom closet, and slamming the door behind them.

He turned to the genius, a furious expression on his face, and curled a fist in the front of Sherlock’s shirt. The brunette flinched, trying to hide his face against the onslaught of punches that was sure to come. 

Instead, there was a gentle hand brushing away his own, and soft lips kissing his. Sherlock’s eyes flicked open wide, in time to witness a tanned face pulling away from his own. His lips parted as he gasped in a breath, frozen to the spot.

John’s brow crinkled. “Was- was that not good? Did you-” He was cut off by Sherlock’s plush lips meeting his again. He melted into it, hand unfisting in Sherlock’s shirt and flying up to cup the genius’ cheek. He felt a cool hand rest at the small of his back and pull him, hesitatingly, closer, until they were hip to hip and John was sure Sherlock could feel the hardness there. However, at the moment, he couldn’t be arsed to care.

He flicked his tongue against Sherlock’s bottom lip, eliciting a stifled moan from him. John liked that sound. It wasn’t a ‘I like that sound’, it was more of a ‘I would sell my family just to hear that sound again’ kind of like.

So John did more.

He pressed into Sherlock, pushing him against a wall, letting one hand slide down the genius’ arm, down to his dark pants, fingering at a belt loop and nibbling suggestively at his bottom lip. Sherlock pulled away slightly and John almost whined at the loss. 

“Are you - I mean, do you… are you sure you want to-” 

As adorable as a stuttering Sherlock was, John didn’t want him having any doubts. So he pressed a finger over the genius’ lips and smiled. Sherlock flushed deeper. 

“Yes,” he murmured, nipping at Sherlock’s pale column of a neck, “I’ll do it all. All you have to do is tell me if it’s too much.” Sherlock nodded viciously, gripping at a shelf behind him, and watching John through wide eyes and with a pink face.

The blonde gave another smile, more suggestive than the last, and Sherlock shivered involuntarily as John undid his fly, tugged down his pants, and gave his cock a worshipful stroke. Sherlock gasped in a breath, eyes fluttering shut.

John knelt in front of Sherlock, licking up his shaft and taking just the head in first, then halfway, bobbing his head the whole time. He was pleased to note that the genius’ breath was coming short and fast, and he let his tongue play over the glans, making Sherlock moan and making a hand slip into his hair.

John undid his own fly and stroked himself in time to the bobbing of his head. He was close, already, and he took Sherlock all the way to his hilt. Sherlock was making submissive noises against the wall. John grazed his teeth along his shaft, and the genius made the most delicious squeaking-squealing-groan and John exploded all over his own hand just as he felt Sherlock’s own cum splash into his mouth, and Sherlock squeaked again. He slid down the wall as John released his cock and crawled over to him.

Sherlock released a breath, still floating in a post-orgasmic haze. He felt John wrap an arm around him and squeeze tightly, sitting next to him against the wall. He leaned into the other teen, smiling lightly.

“My first, you know.” he murmured against the fabric of John’s t-shirt.

“Your what?”

“My first time. With another person.”

“First kiss? First orgasm with another person?”

“Both, yes.”

“Even after orgasm you’re still posh.”

Sherlock chuckled. 

The bell rang.

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS!!! AARYGASDJKASHNGKEHGEQJNASMHBSVCNCSFVVCH


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